we propulsed the second american woman back into space.
by the end of the episode they had rewound back down into the water.
in the strata of the earth’s mineral atmosphere lay fossiled remains of angels or ghosts.
sunburnt corneas haloed the partial view of a drifting reservoir of light.
when members of the search party recovered the flight pod, three of the life support systems had been engaged.
sussing ceased laden lacunae.
down at the water’s edge, you can see a nice exposure of the carbonate rocks that form the top of the aquifer.
the natives emerged from the lapping lagoon in ritual regalia.
if i were a kid, i’d be wanting to jump in there.
in the nineteen-nineties, he told me, a woman was working in her yard when a young child, who was playing near her, disappeared through the sod.
the waves kept stalking in stands of headless sunflowers.
Phillip Griffith, sink/hole
American, b. 1985, playing from New York City, NY, USA
Phillip Griffith is a PhD candidate in French at the Graduate Center, CUNY, in New York City. His poetry has appeared in other venues including La Petite Zine and the REVOLUTIONesque issue of Esque.